


Debauchery

by Astrumiel, Lumieerie



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Cuddles, Fingering, Fluff, Gifts, Glove Kink, Kisses, M/M, Mentions of The Archer's Crew from The Archer, Multiple Orgasms, Rimming, Rockstar! Liam, Rockstar/Tattoo Artist au, Smut, Tattoo Artist!Preston, Teasing, Welcome Home Sex, Window Sex, bareback, remy and liam are best friends send tweet, slight nipple play, striptease, who yes they are Liam's band in this i make the rules canon belongs to me now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25351993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrumiel/pseuds/Astrumiel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumieerie/pseuds/Lumieerie
Summary: With Liam’s salary, the two of them own a penthouse in Chicago, IL. Housing on the topmost floor of NEMA Chicago, their apartment was bigger than it needed to be. They could downgrade, potentially, but Liam would rather die than leave the skyline and Preston likes that no one has the balls to try to shoot at them from 896 feet in the air. It was a win-win situation, and that didn’t even cover the rooms and scenery.Or the windows.
Relationships: Liam Bell/Preston
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Debauchery

**Author's Note:**

> Debauchery  
> (N). Excessive indulgence in sensual pleasures
> 
> So we started the tattoo artist! Preston and rockstar! Liam idea for funsie one night but now its like my 3rd most favorite presliam au we've come up with ngl

The first night Liam's back - after promptly crashing on the couch for a solid six hours - Preston takes him out to celebrate the end of tour. A lovely little upscale place that has a private corner and a view that's second only to seeing Preston himself. There's something simmering between them the whole time - a low fire that neither rushes to address. It's not until they get home later that Liam finds out how hot Preston's been burning.

He hits the back of the front door as soon as it's locked, arms pinned over his head as Preston kisses him with no restraint.

"Missed me did you?" Liam manages between kisses. They had talked damn near every night - a few times Liam had sent him videos live from the stage between songs, asking the crowd to wave to his "special one".

Preston grunts in response. He pushes his whole body into Liam’s space, taking in his familiar scent. “I always do,” he says just before he angles himself so he can mouth at the side of Liam’s neck. “I think I missed your body more, though.”

His laugh is cut short when Preston nips at his skin, making him gasp. “Well, by all means, don’t stop on my account.” His words come out breathy. He attempts to move his arms but stops when Preston growls in warning. “Love it when you take charge,” he purrs. It’s a dangerous tease and Liam knows it when Preston’s grip on his wrists tighten.

“That’s not the kind of night I had planned for us.” Warm breath ghosts over Liam’s skin, sending shivers down his whole body. Preston’s free hand slips under Liam’s shirt and pushes against his chest. “Tonight I am going to render you unable to walk tomorrow.” Warm fingers trail upward, stopping just under one of Liam’s nipples. Preston swipes his thumb slowly over the nub.

“Fuck,” Liam breathes. “You’re going to get me off before we even make it to the bedroom.” He’s not sure if he’s complaining or not.

“There’s a thought,” Preston hums. “A little nipple play and a promise for the rest of the night and you’re already so close? You must be the desperate one in this situation.”

A whine leaves his throat before he can protest. Liam bites down on his lip when Preston adds pressure to his nipple and leans forward to kiss his throat again. “I haven’t even touched your cock yet, Li, but your breathing gives you away.” Preston slides a thigh between Liam’s legs. The friction is light, barely there, and Liam can’t help the noise that he makes when he tries to push closer. “You’d come in your pants for me if I let you, wouldn’t you?” Preston goads.

The thought of coming in his jeans is a little disgusting, but Liam’s too into the idea of actually coming to care. “If you plan to fuck me all night then what’s one little orgasm,” he bites out, glad that his voice came out cocky enough to make Preston snort. With Preston holding his arms up, playing with his nipple, talking to him like that, and now pushing his thigh against his dick, there was no way Liam could hold out. With that in mind, he lightly rolls his hips and closes his eyes at the relief. “So please?” He asks, polite as ever.

The next thirty seconds are quick and full of heat. Preston claims Liam’s lips while simultaneously pinching his nipple and rubbing his thigh against Liam through his jeans. It’s not comfortable, rubbing your dick against denim, and there’s a small chance of burn, but all Liam could think about right now was rutting against his insanely hot boyfriend and getting off. He moans loudly into the kiss and doesn’t stop dry-humping Preston even when the need to pull away for air hits or when his orgasm spills out of him.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” Preston notes as Liam slumps against him, breathing heavily. He slowly brings Liam’s arms down from the door and then rubs his back. “Are you?” He prompts, kissing Liam’s temple.

“Wanted you to fuck me in the car but that didn’t happen,” Liam murmurs. He feels Preston rub his ass through his jeans and hums. “Thank you babe.”

“You’re welcome.” Preston’s voice is soothing to listen to. Only for a moment, however, because he says, “That is your first, and only, orgasm that you’re allowed to have without my say so tonight.” Then he gently pushes Liam away and eyes him almost lecherously. “Two minutes.” He holds up two fingers. “Two minutes to get some water and undress. Then I want you here in the living room against the window,” he points.

With Liam’s salary, the two of them own a penthouse in Chicago, IL. Housing on the topmost floor of NEMA Chicago, their apartment was bigger than it needed to be. They could downgrade, potentially, but Liam would rather die than leave the skyline and Preston likes that no one has the balls to try to shoot at them from 896 feet in the air. It was a win-win situation, and that didn’t even cover the rooms and scenery.

Or the windows.

Their living room was full of furniture and the walls held various paintings that neither knew the name of, but at the far right end, the wall was a floor to ceiling window that showcased the gorgeous view. Everyone living on the top 28 floors of NEMA Chicago could see vistas of Lake Michigan, Grant Park, and even the city below. It was gorgeous and it was home.

“Against the window?” Liam asks, trying to keep the excitement in his voice to a minimum.

Preston’s lips curl upward. “Clock’s ticking, Bellflower.” The use of Liam’s nickname was a promise that Preston was about to give him everything and more tonight. “I’m going to fuck you against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.”

“Fuck,” Liam repeats, all too aware that he was going to cling to that word like a prayer all night. His cock twitches, already returning from its momentary reprieve.

And Preston starts counting down from 120.

He's out of his jacket and shirt in record time, smirking to himself when Preston's countdown reaches a hitch. The jeans are a little harder to shimmy out of, why he went with the really tight ones tonight he can't remember. They hit the floor a moment later next to his shoes and he wipes himself off with his discarded t-shirt. There's a plush little rug by the huge windows that looks like it was all-too-definitely part of _someone's_ planning.

His knees hit the rug, and his hands hit the glass, as Preston hits, "Three, two, and oh don't you make the prettiest sight?"

With the lights off in the room and on behind Preston, the windows become a mirror. He can see Preston standing in the doorway behind him, hand at the top button of his shirt.

"Stay that way and watch." It's a light order and one Liam is all too pleased to follow.

Behind him, Preston hums with satisfaction as he slowly undoes his buttons. At the first hint of skin and ink being revealed Liam's breath hitches. His chest brushes against cool glass, he would move forward to feel it against his cock too- if only Preston's words would let him. Instead he holds himself still and watches as Preston’s shirt slides casually to the floor.

Preston pauses a moment, hand resting on his belt before sliding it out slowly. His fingers rub over the bulge in his pants and a soft groan fills the room.

"Pres-" the whine escapes Liam before he can stop himself. His eyes flicker to the satisfied look on Preston's face then down again slowly. Preston's fingers don't stop. They move up and undo the top button then, oh so teasingly, slowly undo the zipper, and a low chuckle comes from Preston when Liam makes a noise this time.

"Oh, is this what you want darling?" Preston asks as his other hand slides under his waistband and _Oh when did he put on his leather riding glove?_ He fucking knew what those did to Liam. "I think you're really liking this," Preston purrs, pulling his dick out, pants and underwear still riding low on his thighs. Liam wants to photograph and frame this moment. Between that gloved hand softly fondling himself and the tattoos on Preston’s hips that always drove Liam wild - a little more of this delicious torture and he'd be coming untouched.

"Oh darling," Preston purrs again in a lower voice. "You really like that don't you?"

“I love it,” Liam says honestly. He loves most things Preston has to offer him, but it was no secret that when Preston wore his gloves he wanted his fingers in his mouth. Liam was not one to enjoy leather clothing unless it was gloves or, on that one occasion back in Baltimore while he was touring before he met Preston, a leather skirt he wore to a club. Or that time Preston wore a leather jacket. Okay, maybe he likes leather on Preston and no one else. Liam was fine with that.

“You’re not seriously going to look like that and expect me not to come, right?” His eyes follow Preston in the glass. He licks his lips when Preston finally pushes his pants and underwear down.

Preston thinks for a moment. He even poses with his hand on his chin, making Liam laugh, before he monotonously says, “No.”

“But-” He stops his protest mid-start when Preston levels him with a look. Liam swallows, heat going right to his dick at the way Preston’s eyes bore into him.

“I said you weren’t coming without my say-so anymore, didn’t I?”

“You’re going to kill me,” Liam groans. When Preston steps away for a moment, Liam relaxes his posture and leans his head against the glass. He eyes the city down below, watching as cars pass by and nightlife takes its start. The sun would fall shortly and, though neither of them could hear it from so far up, the city would still bustle with chatter and excitement. That was one of the many reasons he was glad Preston chose to stay in Chicago for his business even when his little sister left.

He moves so his knees are more comfortable and then he looks up at the sky. Red and blue and purple hues don the horizon, fading into what would soon be a dark blue and black with dotting stars. Sometimes it was easy for Liam to forget that this was his permanent home when he wasn’t on tours with the band. Sometimes the bright lights of the spotlight and the roars of the crowd made him forget how pretty, sometimes dangerous, and amazing Chicago was.

But it never made him forget Preston.

As if his thoughts were magic, Preston came back into the room. Liam instinctively gets back into position and wiggles his ass. “Don’t keep me waiting.” He’s grinning as he says it. He can see Preston moving around, and he can see what's in Preston’s hands. “All that for me? You sure are making me feel special, Preston.”

“A special pain in the ass,” Preston replies with no venom. He sets down a pad of memory foam and instructs Liam to move onto that so his knees don’t hurt too much. Then he sets down the lube. No condom. “I figured that the best way to welcome you home was to show you how much I missed you,” he explains. “Unless you’d rather wait?”

A wanton plea spills from Liam’s lips. He presses his forehead against the glass once more and imagines Preston inside him with no barriers. He rolls his hips at the thought, not even caring that there was no friction and just air on him. “Yes,” he exhales. “We haven’t done that since our first official date.” While it was messy and drunk- and with explicit consent beforehand- and completely unprofessional on both of their accounts, Liam still marks their first date as one of the best dates he’s ever had. Sometimes, when you find the right one, everything that should have become a mess ended up becoming something wonderful and oh-so-right.

“Yes, you want this; or yes, you want to wait?”

“Yes, I want this.” Liam held back on adding “asshole”. He knew Preston loved hearing him ask and beg for it. “I want it. I want it - want you.”

Preston runs his hands down Liam’s back and over his ass, smirking when Liam pushes into the touch. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You try being teased to hell and back!” Even as he says that, Liam shudders at the feeling of Preston’s gloved-hand trailing back up his back and gently digging into the muscle under his shoulder blade. Even before he had asked Preston out on a date, those skilled hands on Liam’s body had been a religious experience when he walked into the tattoo shop and got the forget-me-not on his inner thigh. Now he had the pleasure of reliving it every time Preston touches him.

“Oh, you think this is teasing?” Preston leans over Liam’s body, pushes against Liam’s back with his front, and breathes low in his ear. “This is just the beginning, rock star.” His gloved-hand snakes around Liam’s front and wraps around his cock. He tugs gently. “Tell me about the months you were gone,” he starts. “All those months you spent alone with your hand, just waiting for me to be the one to get you off. Tell me about the frustration you felt every time I promised to wreck you when you got home.”

He groans and tilts his head back. The heat of Preston’s palm had made the leather warm and soft, but different to the touch of skin. Supple. The touch reminds Liam of the first time he’d seen Preston parking his motorcycle and how sexy he’d found Preston in the outfit. Liam swallows back spit, refusing to drool at a daydream when the real thing was right here with him.

“Talk,” Preston commands, though his tone is patient as he drags his palm down Liam’s length. “Or I won’t get you off.”

“Don’t be rude,” Liam huffs while also arching into Preston’s touch. He thinks about his tour and how it went. He remembers sleeping a lot while on the road, waking up an hour before sound check and the many times Remy pointed out how hot their manager Shawn was. He remembers high-fiving Grey after the show in Nashville because he hit the high-note on their newest song without chugging water beforehand. He remembers getting black-out drunk with Brandt and waking up with glitter eye shadow over his arm because why the fuck not. But those memories aren't what Preston wants to hear. Liam grins.

"I lasted about a week before I missed your hand," he taunts lightly, snickering when Preston sped up his strokes. Challenging Preston was one of his favorite past times. "I thought about all those times you bent me over the tattoo chair and fucked me. I still want you to fuck me while giving me a tattoo though-"

"Never gonna happen," Preston shot that down quickly. It was unsafe, unsanitary, and yet Liam still wants it to happen. Maybe one day he can convince Preston to at least pretend that’s what they're doing- maybe with watercolor paint.

"I’d stand under the shower and pretend it was your hand caressing me, your voice whispering in my ear, and your dick filling me. He pauses just for a moment, lips parting in a moan as Preston tightens his grip for a second before relaxing it and swiping his thumb across Liam's tip. "Sometimes the guys would go out drinking and I'd be alone with my hand, thinking about you as I spread myself out on my bed." He mewls when Preston stops moving his hand. "What?"

"You're close," Preston informs.

Liam scoffs, "I am not!" It's a lie, of course. He pouts when Preston pulls his hand away and gently kisses the nape of his neck. "I told you not to be rude, you can't bully me the first night I got back!"

"Am I really bullying you if you like it?" Preston moves his lips to Liam's shoulder and kisses the tattoo there. This one was just a disk with the words "The Archer" in cursive on it. The name of Liam's band, and the name of their debut single.

"No, but I want you to stop and fuck me," Liam bats his eyes in the window, knowing Preston can see his reflection.

Preston snorts. "My impatient song bird," he ‘tsks’ softly. "Tell me some softer things."

"While my dick is hard?" Liam arches his eyebrows. He holds in a laugh when he hears the intake of breath he receives. "Sorry," he amends. "Bad timing, I had to, I love you."

"Now you're really going to have to wait."

_Ah, revenge is a dish best served cold._

Though proud of his terrible joke, Liam fakes a sniff. Then when Preston doesn't fall for it, Liam launches into a spiel about how one time Remy tried to eat a ghost pepper but couldn't stomach it, making the rest of the band laugh.

"I meant about us, Liam," Preston chides.

It is easy to think about the more content parts of the tour. The parts where Liam did spend time with Preston, even if it was electronically. "That night you called me after the live-streamed concert in Las Vegas? The one where I fell asleep, do you remember that?" Liam waits for Preston to nod before he continues. "I had a dream where I woke up in your arms and it was the best sleep I'd had in weeks. Your voice always soothes me, Preston." He hums when he feels Preston trailing kisses down his arm. He knew what Preston's aim was.

When Preston turns Liam's arm a bit so he can kiss the inside of his wrist, Liam tries not to melt. There was a small sun with music-notes acting as the sun-rays on his mic hand. Preston loves to joke about the god Apollo whenever he kisses it-

"Every day I'm near you, I melt and fall all over again.”

 _Just like that._ Liam will forever keep to himself that he was the one who inspired Liam to get that tattoo. Where Liam was the sunken ocean in the form of a rockstar, Preston was the rising sun in the form of an artist. His art had a way of inspiring songs, just like the god Apollo, to Liam. That secret was too precious to mention during sex.

"Sometimes you send me those cute wake-up selfies and I get the pleasure of seeing your infamous, although rare, bedhead. I saved those pictures and looked at them every night. Missing you." Liam smiles to himself.

"Well, now you're home," Preston assures gently. His lips return to Liam's cheek. "And you're not alone."

He hears the unmistakable pop of the lube-bottle and wonders when Preston had a moment to step away. “I know,” he reaffirms, lips curling wider. He wiggles in place. “So you’re going to prep me now?”

“I said you’re going to wait,” Preston reminds Liam. “Should I tell you what I did while you were gone?”

The urge to say ‘no,’ is very strong, but Liam represses it. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t show his interest in Preston’s life? That does not stop him from complaining, though. At all. “Not when you’re about to get me off,” he drags the whine out.

“Whose fault was it to make a dick joke while having romantic window sex?”

“Not mine- okay it was mine but Preston, come on!”

In defiance, Liam tries to move his hands so he could turn around. Big mistake. Strong hands press Liam’s back against the window and he yelps, though not in fear. Preston’s hands were not rough, just strong enough to actually put Liam in his place. Not many people could accomplish that feat besides Liam’s band mates and friends.

“Final warning, handsome, or I will leave you and go curl in bed with a book.” It’s a very loose threat. Both of them know that Preston is not one for leaving his partner unsatisfied. He was more into sensual, slow, exciting sex that was full of emotion for the both of them. At times, if Liam asks, he will be rough- or even bottom on occasion- but Preston’s life was full of action enough as it is. “Understand?”

“Promises, promises,” Liam preens. Then, “Yes, please tell me what my dashing, sexy, strong boyfriend with a tattoo gun got up to while he was lonely without me.” The playful hint in his tone was back.

“Nothing,” Preston deadpans. Then he bursts into a laugh when Liam whips his head back to look at him in shock. He can’t even scold Liam for the action and instead gently makes him turn away. “You’re so easy,” he kisses Liam’s cheek in apology.

“And we’re back to bullying.” If Liam weren’t listening to Preston, he would cross his arms and stomp away like a child.

“Still not bullying.” Preston pushes against Liam, his cock rubbing against Liam’s ass. “I intentionally kept myself busy so I wouldn’t have to come home alone. I’d invite Miri over and talk designs with her, or I’d read. Just normal, boring things.” He slowly slides his cock between Liam’s asscheeks, grunting at the friction.

Liam exhales slowly, closing his eyes and just feeling everything as it happens. The feel of Preston’s cock, Preston’s words filling the air, the sound of Preston finally squeezing the lube bottle and slicking his fingers with the scentless liquid. Just them. Just Preston. Liam’s head lulls to the side and he pushes back against Preston’s cock, wishing he would just put it in already. However, he knew Preston had just barely begun.

Shivers of anticipation pass through him when Preston puts a hand on Liam’s cock again. He gives soft, gentle strokes while whispering praise in Liam’s ear. “I missed you so much. When you left, I too had only my hand to keep me company.”

He thrusts, careful not to penetrate Liam without preparation, and groans. “I thought about everything we’d do when you got back. All the ways I could mark you.”

“Well stop thinking about them and do them,” Liam grumbles. Then he lets out a high-pitched whine when Preston creates a steady rhythm while rolling his hips. A moment passes and Liam feels Preston tense up behind him. He grins. “Are you close, Pres?” He rolls his hips in encouragement. “Come on me, mark me properly.”

“Not yet,” Preston denies both Liam and himself. He momentarily regrets moving away when Liam hangs his head against the glass and lets out a whimper. He kisses Liam’s shoulder in apology, “Soon, Li. I’m going to get you ready now.” The sight of Liam’s shoulders dropping in relief makes Preston smile.

Then he sinks to his knees and parts Liam’s legs. “Always a pretty sight,” he praises. He smooths his hands over Liam’s cheeks. He spreads them and then, after the moment that feels like a lifetime, he licks a thin stripe down Liam’s asscrack.

“Hold still,” he instructs gently when Liam squirms.

“I can’t help it! It’s been so long, Princeton.” He wants to add something, but loses his train of thought when Preston mutters something about impatience before he swirls his tongue around Liam’s hole. A gutteral noise escapes him and if Preston’s hands weren’t holding him, Liam would have fallen forward. Instead, he rests his head on his hands and moans loudly as the sensation overwhelms him.

When Preston adds a finger, Liam can’t help the sounds he makes. His cock aches and he’s unsure how long he is going to last if Preston keeps this up. He makes a very needy plea.

Preston pulls back and drapes himself over Liam’s back. “You’re close again, hmm?” His breath is hot as he emphasizes his words. “Just. On. The edge.” The enunciation is more pronounced as one of his hands grope Liam’s ass cheek, a finger teasingly circling Liam’s rim.

Liam’s not sure if he vocalizes the word ‘fuck,’ or not, but he manages to say, “Yes, please.”

Kissing just under Liam’s ear, Preston pushes his finger inside Liam once more and whispers, “Then come for me, Liam.”

When Liam orgasms, it's fast and in spurts of white against the glass. He shakes and slumps against the window, all too aware of the heat from Preston's breathing on his neck and Preston's arms around. His mind races with repeating words, almost like a broken record of the words "fuck," "Preston," and "god damn," as he shudders to an end.

Preston coaxes him gently, speaking low praises in his ear and kissing his cheek. "Good?" He asks.

Liam curses Preston's ability to speak because words no longer work for him. "Want more: you haven't even come yet." The sentence comes out weak, hoarse, but Liam's proud of it. He wiggles his hips, silently asking Preston to give him more.

"And you'll have it," Preston promises. Then he adds, “And you know I’ll come.”

He starts moving his finger in Liam again, slow at first as Liam pants from his orgasm, kissing his shoulders until Liam starts pushing back. More lube and another finger slides in easily into tight heat that has Preston looking down and biting his lip. Liam was the one who affected him like this.

“Pres-” Liam mewls, pushing back, clearly wanting more as his knees slide further apart. There was a joke he could make about Liam being a star of some _other_ profession but -

“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.” He says and nearly laughs at the “fuck you” noise Liam makes before spreading his fingers as he dragged them out.

His gloved hand smooths over Liam’s side as he continues pushing and playing his fingers into that hot, tight, welcoming heat. Another hard shiver has him caressing down Liam’s side to find his cock already hard again.

“Oh.” He says in a low pleased tone.

“Never takes long with you-” Liam breaks off as Preston’s fingers rub little circles just over his prostate. “-fuck - with you touching me.”

There was no denying that. Preston chuckles to himself before he retracts his fingers. "Don't pout," Preston says before Liam can even open his mouth to protest.

He lines himself up and waits one second, two seconds, and then a third before he eases his tip right at Liam's entrance. With his free hand, Preston glides his fingers from the V of Liam's hips up to his chest. He deliberately slows himself, wanting Liam to relish in the feel of leather on his skin.

Liam follows the motion, a gasp becoming an indescribable noise as he winces just slightly. His skin was on fire against the press of Preston's glove. He pushes against Preston's dick, head falling back in the same motion as a prayer of Preston's name falls from his lips.

The two of them share a groan that echoes through their apartment.

"This," Liam voices. He holds his breath for a moment before releasing it, trying to stop himself. One second of being connected and Liam was already on edge. "This is what I missed the most," he says. "The closeness. You being inside me, filling me, giving me everything that I ask for."

All night he has been good, listening to Preston's commands and following without question. Now, however, he takes a hand off the glass and holds it over Preston's hand on his chest. "I missed you, Preston."

Instead of a punishment, Preston rocks his hips forward and makes Liam moan once more. "Welcome home, Liam." His voice is full of endearment. "I missed you, my pretty song bird."

He starts slow, easing in, counting the seconds as his and Liam's panting fill the air. Then he speeds up, thrusts harder, pulls out a sinful noise from Liam, and shifts positions so he's hitting Liam's prostate. Preston doesn't hear Liam's reply because he loses himself in the movement. Their heat and closeness are a symphony of sounds and motion playing off of each other.

“You’re doing so good.” Preston finally finds his voice in praising Liam. “Look at yourself,” he directs.

Liam looks up and his mouth falls open in a moan at the sight. The window reflects the two of them: Preston fucking into Liam with their eyes meeting. He can’t take his eyes off Preston’s expression, wanting to lose himself in the beauty of a blizzard. For such a cold color, his eyes burn into Liam with a deep affection.

For a millisecond, Liam wonders what it would be like if Preston were to turn him around and hold him up against the glass that way. He wants to see Preston when he comes undone. _Maybe not tonight,_ he decides. The thought spins around in his head even as he attempts to match Preston’s rhythm.

Preston tugs roughly on Liam’s dick while rolling his hips in tandem and sends Liam right over the edge. He uses a free hand to drag Liam’s head back and claims his lips in an open-mouth kiss. It’s messy and barely a real kiss, but he swallows most of the cry of pleasure Liam gifts him.

The next moment the air stills around the two of them, Preston’s hips move erratically and he loses himself completely. A shout falls from his lips, a repetition of Liam’s name, and Liam distantly echoes him, his voice a wreck.

It’s that action, and Liam reaching back as tremors still run through him, blindly grabbing for Preston that’s the last push that Preston needs. He comes hard, all the teasing, friction, and satisfaction of having Liam back in his arms crashes through him. He bites down on the juncture of Liam’s neck, marking it, much to Liam’s hazy delight. His hips are still working in small circles when a soft noise escapes Liam’s lips and both of them slump against each other panting.

“You good darling?” Preston asks, running a gentle hand over Liam’s side. He feels Liam nod against his cheek before answering.

“It’s always good with you -” He answers, both of them falling into the softness of the afterglow. “- this was spectacular.”

“Mmmm, absolutely agree with you there - I’m going to move now,” Preston warns softly. Before he can move, Liam's hand finds his.

“Just stay like this a sec - look at the city with me.” Preston snorts but kisses his shoulder.

“You just want my dick to stay where it is.” He settles his chin on Liam’s shoulder a moment later and watches with him for a few breaths as they both come down enough to actually move.

“Let me take care of you.” Preston whispers, kissing down Liam's shoulder to his arm.

“Didn’t you just?” Liam asks, melting into the kisses. He can feel Preston’s smile against his skin, careful kisses all the way down to the back of his hand, then one more pressed into his palm. A humm is Preston’s answer before he moves, slowly pulling out and murmuring something soft to Liam.

He cleans them both up quietly, some thought of a bubble bath comes up distantly in his mind but it’s far too likely that they would both fall asleep before the tub was even full.

“Come on, I’d carry you but that’s a recipe for disaster.” Preston coaxes Liam to his feet and pulls him towards their bedroom. It's a short distance down the hall and to the left, but Liam clings to Preston the whole time, always cuddly after a sweet welcome home. When he nudges the door open, Preston steps aside and lets Liam see what waits on the bed.

Their room is minimal at best, yet still messy on a bad day. Sometimes there's clothing strewn about and sometimes there's sketchbooks and notebooks and pens and pencils and erasers and guitars everywhere in sight because the two didn't move to their respective offices to work that day. Tonight, their room is spotless and dimly lit by candles on each side of the bed, the scent of lavender filling the room.

Liam glances at Preston, eyes wide and a half-smile forming on his lips. "Another surprise?" He asks.

Preston nods. Then he gestures to the bed, directing Liam's attention to the present that he'd laid on the bed before he picked Liam up at the airport.

Liam's favorite flower has always been the forget-me-not. It's delicate, beautiful, and has a meaning that reminds Liam of his friends and family from the past. He loves it so much that he paid for a tattoo of it.

Preston did not have a favorite flower until he met Liam and found out he could make a pun out of the name. Hence the nickname bellflower.

So Liam’s heart swells at the sight of bellflower and forget-me-not petals on the bed around a little black box too small to be a ring box. With one last quick look at Preston, Liam brings himself closer to the bed and picks up the container. A cursive L curls around the top of it, beckoning Liam to open it. And he does.

An appreciative coo fills the air as Liam takes the rounded guitar pick between his thumb and index finger and holds it up. It glints off the light from the candle nearby and Liam notices the letters on it. Just a simple "Preston + Liam." If he were capable of crying right now, Liam would. Instead he coos once more, heart full of flowers and guitar picks and love for Preston.

He turns to find the epitome of happiness in the form of his boyfriend. "I didn't bring anything back," Liam admits, a hint of guilt filling him.

Preston crosses the room, shaking his head at the same time, and takes the guitar pick out of Liam's hand. He places it back in its box and sets it on the bed, then he takes Liam's hands in his own. "I don’t need anything because I already have you, Liam. You’re everything I could ever want.” He brings Liam’s hands up and kisses his knuckles.

Before walking into that tattoo shop last year, Liam did not believe in love. A life on the road spent chasing after moments alone with someone who became toxic had taught Liam that love was a fragile, meaningless thing that would always come back to haunt him. The idea was broken into tiny pieces the day Preston said he could cover up the A on Liam's chest. Then, with each new tattoo and with Preston's help designing the cover for The Archer's newest album, Liam got to witness love bloom first hand.

And from that blooming came a romance that was only for him and Preston. Tender, forgiving, full of conversation and promise and a love indescribable without art: a song composition for only the two of them. A masterpiece.

Liam slides his hands away from Preston's and caresses his cheek with one. Then with his free hand, he threads his fingers through Preston's hair and pulls him into a kiss. Against his lips, Liam says, "You're everything to me too."


End file.
